Page 68 of Five

“It doesn’t have to be this way. You could make a show of power—”

“No,” I say, turning to face him. “No.”

I walk out, leaving him behind to finish with the details.

I’m done.

I want one thing. And that’s to set things right with Rory. Everything else can just fuck off.

I find my way to my rooms. There are guards stationed in every hallway of the nearly ten-thousand-square-foot mansion. But they are not my guards. They have no loyalty to me. They belong to him, to his dynasty, and now that’s all gone.

I’m not surprised at all that Chen’s vision of the future, the one that had me taking my grandfather’s place and business resuming as usual, was nothing more than the grandiose fantasy of an aging man who spent nearly his entire life at the top of the food chain, riding the success and prowess of his boss.

They were never going to accept me and they made that very clear a few hours ago when I arrived.

The Chinese Triads are not like the Italian Mob. They are not centralized like a drug cartel, for instance. They are loose, and shifting, and precarious.

And my grandfather managed to grab a hold of one and keep for decades. It’s an astonishing accomplishment. If you call heading a mob an accomplishment.

I’m not sure I do.

Chen has been his closest friend this entire time. Chen is nobody. More nobody than me. At least I have some claim to what my grandfather created here. He has nothing. And he needs me to be accepted. He needs me to take over. He needs me. Or he loses everything. They killed him, for fuck’s sake. They killed my grandfather.

Who?

It doesn’t even matter. It could be any of them. Any of the men in his organization. Any of the other leaders. Maybe even the government. Who knows? Who cares?

You’re next.

That thought has been racing around my brain since the flight.

I’m next. And then who? My mother and father? My little brother? My sisters? Rory? Where do they stop?

I open the door to my room to find… a man standing at the window, looking out at the impressive view of Victoria Harbor.

Annoyance is the only emotion I can muster. “Can I help you with something, Mr. Wen?”

Mr. Wen is my late grandfather’s biggest rival here in Hong Kong, a detective who’s been working to take down the various Triads for over a decade. And I have to reluctantly admit, it seems Chen’s paranoia was well warranted. Because Wen is here. In my rooms. And the guards are right outside.

He bows. Low. Then rights himself and says, in perfect British English, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“What do you want?”

He doesn’t react. Wen is an older man, but not as old as my grandfather. He’s dignified in a way that says elite boarding schools. “We have a mutual interest.”

“We do not,” I say bluntly as I cross the room, grab the decanter of Scotch from a small side table, and begin to pour before…

“I didn’t touch it,” Wen says, once I catch up with the state of things. “And I didn’t kill your grandfather.”

“No?” I ask, setting the decanter back down. I really need to get out of here. Maybe California isn’t such a bad idea after all.

“No,” Wen says. “His enemies are numerous. As are yours.”

“Are you one of them?” I ask, already tired of his polite charade.

“The most dangerous man is the one with nothing to lose, Mr. Aston.”

“I’ll remember that.”